Lost Without You
by Curious Rebel
Summary: When your safety net disappears, how far do you fall?
1. Death

Lost Without You: Chapter 1 - Death

* * *

{ Cal }

Pure and utter sadness.

That's all I feel now.

I drag myself into mine and Ethan's shared apartment – just mine now. Charlie closes the door behind him. He drove me home after-

I don't want to think about it.

Oh god. Ethan.

* * *

 _I look up from my current patient at something hovering in my peripheral vision. Connie, Zoe, Iain and Dixie look back at me. They all look worried beyond apprehension, which in turn worries me._

" _Excuse me a second." I say, not bothering to look at my patient. My eyebrows scrunch together. Something's wrong, something's very, very wrong._

" _Dr. Knight?" Rita, who was assisting me, questions from behind me. I ignore her._

" _Cal." Dixie's voice is soft and placating._

" _What? What's wrong?"_

" _Maybe you should come and sit in my office, Dr. Knight." Connie can't look me in the eye as she gestures to the door of her office._

 _I walk hesitantly towards it, still internally questioning the reason for the unsettling feeling in the air. I push the door open, and we all pile into the box- like office._

" _Is something wrong?" I ask, parking myself on the office sofa. They glance between each other for a moment._

" _We had a call out to an assault earlier." Dixie starts, her voice breaks slightly._

" _So? What does that have to do with me? Look, I don't have much time, my shift ends soon, and I have to do some shopping, Ethan's getting annoyed with me again."_

 _Zoe makes a little chocking sound, making me look at her._

" _What?"_

" _Cal, the assault involved two people." Dixie carries on explaining," A young girl and a man that attempted to stop the assault."_

 _My eyebrows pull together._

" _And?"_

 _Dixie and Iain look at each other. Iain swallows._

" _The man was Ethan, Cal." He says and his voice is shaking._

" _What? Where is he? Is he okay?" I get up from where I'm sat, but Connie holds out a hand to placate me. I sit again, more nervously this time._

" _Both had been stabbed. The girl, Mia, should be in theatre right now." Dixie speaks again._

" _And Ethan?"_

 _Dixie worries her left hand with her right._

" _I'm sorry, Cal. He died at the scene."_

 _I stare at her. She looks down, a little guiltily. My lips move, but nothing comes out. I attempt to swallow around the lump in my throat._

" _What?" My voice is just a whisper," That's not possible."_

 _I shake my head and Zoe puts an arm around me._

" _I'm afraid it is, Cal." She sounds like she talking to a child. This may have been a tactic to calm me, but if anything it makes me feel more dejected._

" _No," My voice breaks slightly," you don't understand. I can't lose him. He's my baby brother!"_

 _I look desperately at them, willing them to tell me it's not true, to tell me I'll see him when I get home. They don't._

" _Please?" I'm not sure what manners will do, but Ethan always had such good manners. Oh, Ethan._

" _I'm so sorry, Cal."_

" _No. No, he can't be gone. I need him!"_

" _Cal-"_

" _No. He means everything to me!" I stand, my grief getting the better of me," How am I supposed to live without Ethan? That would be like breathing with no air! It's not possible. How am I supposed to cope, when my only way of coping is gone? How do you expect me to do that?"_

 _Come on, Ethan. Just come in. Tell me this is just a joke. I won't even get mad. It's a sick joke, but that's okay; if you're okay, everything's okay. Just come in, yeah? We can have a laugh about it._

 _I wait for a moment._

 _Ethan doesn't walk in. No one starts laughing. It's not a joke. He's gone. I sob harder at this._

" _Dr. Knight, you should go. I don't expect to see you back here until you're ready. I will get someone to take you home." Connie's voice becomes warmer and more sincere," I'm so sorry for your loss, it's something we'll all take very hard."_

 _I lick my lips," He's really gone?"_

" _I'm afraid so, Cal."_

* * *

I lie on Ethan's bed. I never really realised how much he smelled like home. Oh, this is torture. I itch my face where my drying tears irritate the skin. My head turns to look at the bedside clock; 12:03 AM. Charlie left about two hours ago. I sigh for the millionth time this evening. My eyelids ache from crying and, as they begin to slip shut, all I can think about is the fact that can't remember the last time I told Ethan that I loved him.

* * *

 _I wander back to the flat, open the door, go inside, sit down on the sofa. All the usual things. Except one thing isn't usual. The flat is empty. Ethan is_ always _home when I get back from my shift on Mondays._

 _I wander curiously to his bedroom, only to find that his bed has been stripped bare and all his possessions are gone._

" _Ethan?" I call, precautious. My sibling seems to appear from nowhere and grins at me._

" _I'll see you one day, Caleb, okay?"_

" _Where are you going?" I'm confused; Ethan never said he was leaving._

 _He puts his suitcase down and hugs me, holding me close._

" _I'm not sure yet." He pulls back," But I promise you'll see me again."_

" _We need to talk, though."_

" _No. You need to rest. Take care, Cal."_

" _I love you, Ethan." I attempt to talk, but it only comes out as a whimper._

" _I love you, too, Caleb." He stops for a moment, smiles, and says," Answer the phone, Cal."_

" _What?"_

 _A loud ringing enters my ears and I reach desperately for Ethan._

" _Ethan! Wait!"_

* * *

I sit up in bed, a late tear tracking its way down my cheek and disappearing under my neck. The ringing of the phone continues and I groan as I go to pick it up.


	2. Denial

**Hey guys! I wanted to thank you all for your lovely reviews, ( I'm looking at you; Gillian Kearney Fan, sweeet-as-honey, ETWentHome, Teeloganroryflan, CBloom2, beckyboogle, Tanith Panic and Tato Potato) and all of you who favourited and followed, it really inspired me!**

 **Anyway, enough rabbiting on, here's the second chapter!**

* * *

Lost Without You: Chapter 2 - Denial

* * *

{ Dixie }

Ethan was great. He was sweet and lovable – everyone liked him. Losing him is going to rock the department quite a bit. It'll be so sad at his funeral; I can't even imagine staying dry-eyed. Cal must be feeling terrible at the moment. He could barely speak yesterday because he was crying so hard. I don't know if Cal will be able to take losing Ethan. He avoided showing it most of the time, but Cal truly cared for his little brother. Ethan was quite stubborn when it came to showing his affections towards Cal, too. They loved each other, though. I only hope that Cal will be okay.

* * *

{ Cal }

I stand in front of the phone. I don't even want to pick it up. It'll be Connie, she'll remind me to take time off work, and I'll be shot straight back into reality. A reality where my brother is no longer alive.

A gulp, a press of the green button and-

"Hello?" My voice wavers and cracks. I prepare myself for it – her comforting tone, her condolences. A million emotions shoot straight through me as a voice, not Connie's, a voice strange but familiar, answers me.

"Hello, Caleb." The voice is even and deep, maybe even a little guilty. Shivers snake up and down my spine.

"Dad?"

"Yes. We, err, haven't spoken in a while, have we? How, um, how are you? A-and Ethan?" He sounds uncertain and nervous. Good. He should be.

"I- We- Not good." Is all I can manage, this is much worse than Connie calling.

"Oh? Why? What's wrong? Is it money? If it's money I could maybe help you out."

I scoff. Money – if only.

"No, it's not money."

"A place to live?"

"No."

"Jobs?"

"No."

"Well, what is it then?" He's getting impatient now. No wonder we ended up with all those bruises when we were younger, his fuse was always too short. I open my mouth to answer,

"What is it, Caleb?" He puts on a mocking voice, suddenly turning into the monster I knew him to be," Did poor likkle Ethan fail an exam? Aww, poor little wimp. If you ask me, you never should have protected him."

"I didn't ask you!" I explode, silencing him," Would you say he was a wimp if you knew that my brother – _your son_ – was stabbed while attempting to stop an assault yesterday?! Would you?!"

"Stabbed? So, he's taking up a hospital bed? What a waste of NHS resources."

"Hospital bed." The words are stale and dull against my tongue. Why wouldn't Ethan be in a hospital bed? Why did he have to be dead? How do I know that Dixie and Iain were telling the truth yesterday? How do I know that Ethan is dead?

"What?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm certain he's in a hospital bed. I don't know which ward, though."

"Well, tell me where you live. I'll be coming to see him, won't I?"

"Do you have to?"

"Yes." He practically growls.

"Well, I'll need to check which ward he's on. I'll call you back when I have." I slam the phone down without even saying good bye.

"Like hell I will." I mutter angrily.

I shiver in the suddenly quiet flat and begin to wonder when Ethan will be coming home. I haven't seen him since yesterday morning. I yawn and go to lie back down in my brother's bed. I'm sure he won't mind if I just take a quick nap.

* * *

When I wake up it is dark again - Ethan should be home now. Upon dragging myself out of the sheets, I find that I feel grimy.

"Ethan! I'm going to grab a shower!" There's no reply and I decide he must have fallen asleep, or went to go grab something from the shops.

As I shower I wonder what to make for tea. Ethan's great at cooking.

* * *

I wander into the kitchen quarter of an hour later and Ethan doesn't appear to be home.

"Ethan?" Again, no reply. I shrug and put the oven on, I'm certain we have something in the freezer. I go over to the fridge and pull it open, searching for tonight's meal. I crouch down to look in the lower drawers and something falls out of my pocket with a thud. Feeling behind me, I find my phone, I pick it up and look at it, now boasting a crack in the corner.

"Oh, great." I utter, annoyed. It still works, I'm relieved to find, so maybe I should call Ethan? I pull my contacts up and look at Ethan's name at the top of the list, under the 'ICE' section. I push the phone up to my ear as I press the green button. The dialling tone drums in my ears.

"Hi, you've reached Ethan Hardy," Happiness floods through me at his voice.

"Hey, when are you getting-"I begin, only to get cut off,

"I can't come to the phone right now, but leave a message and I'll get back to you."

"Yeah, Ethan, when are you getting home? I thought you'd be back by now. I'm doing pizza for tea." I stop to read the packet," Deep Pan Mexican Meat Feast. I'll see you later, yeah?"

I put my phone down and shove the pizza in the oven. I check the time and go into the hall in search of my bag. Noticing something on the door mat, I walk over. Stooping down to pick it up, I find that it's an envelope. I turn it over in my hands. There's no stamp.

To Cal

From Your Friends at the ED

I read from the front, so what could it be? I saunter back into the kitchen, forgetting all about my bag and sitting down at the dining table. I look up to check the time again; maybe Ethan got tied up with a patient?

I purse my lips slightly, uncertain; it's not my birthday, it's not Ethan's birthday and it's not Christmas, so what could it be? I tear the envelope open and find a small card inside. I turn it over, and freeze. Reading the words over and over, I begin to tear up. The front of the card is decorated with a large-eyed illustrated kitten in a basket and words in a soft pink. Words that make my stomach turn. The horrifying words read:

 _'Our Condolences'_

I sniff, and open the card.

 _'To Cal,_

 _We are so sorry for your loss, we just wanted you to know, it's our loss too.'_

Signed names are inked all over the thin card and I search desperately for something, _anything_. I don't find anything. I collapse a little; Ethan's signature isn't there.

The flood gates break and I burst into uncontrollable sobs.

Ethan's not in a hospital bed.

Ethan's not on a ward.

Ethan's not coming home for tea.

Ethan's not tied up with a patient.

Ethan's not doing anything.

Dixie and Iain were telling the truth.

Ethan is dead.

* * *

 **How was that? Fancy review it? I would love it if you did. In this chapter, Cal is supposed to be beginning the five stages of grief, did you already get that part? I hope so.**

 **\- Cale xx**


	3. Anger

**Oh, my god, this was hard work. I really wasn't looking forward to writing this chapter. I think it went well, in the end.**

 **Also, wanted to thank you guys ( Tato Potato, CBloom2, TheAtomicCheesepuff, ETWentHome and Sweeet-as-honey ) for the feedback.**

* * *

Lost Without You: Chapter 3 - Anger

* * *

{ Cal }

I read the words over and over again, depressed. My hands shake as I put the card down. This can't be happening.

"No." I breathe, suddenly furious, "NO! YOU CAN'T DO THIS!"

There's a light knock on the door, but I can't hear it, the only thing I can hear is my heart beat thrumming angrily in my ears.

"YOU CAN'T DO THIS! YOU CAN'T TAKE HIM AWAY! HE'S MY BROTHER, I NEED HIM! HOW DARE YOU?"

Storming into the living room, I can feel my anger bubble and boil deep in my heart.

"YOU THINK YOU CAN DO THIS? YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST TAKE HIM AWAY, WITHOUT A CARE IN THE WORLD? THERE ARE PEOPLE WHO NEED HIM! THE HOSPITAL NEEDS HIM! THE PATIENTS NEED HIM!" I pause; breathing seems to become laboured," I NEED HIM! YOU HAVE TO GIVE HIM BACK!"

No answer. Just like when I came home, and Ethan wasn't here. My hands curl into fists and I throw myself around to face the wall behind me, a fist follows through and smashes straight into a photo on the wall with an unhealthy crunch. I hiss from the pain as glass penetrates my skin and cradle my hand protectively to my chest.

Anger is replaced with pain, and I sink to the floor, sobbing.

* * *

{ Rita }

"I don't think he has any other family. Max said he didn't answer the door when he brought the card up earlier, he must not have anyone with him." I say, feeling guilty to be talking about Cal's personal life.

"Even if he doesn't, he still has us." Charlie reassures. I smile sadly and reach up to knock on the door.

We wait for a moment.

"NO! YOU CAN'T DO THIS!" I glance at the senior nurse beside me and he frowns back, worried.

"Cal?" I call through the door. No answer, except-

"YOU CAN'T DO THIS! YOU CAN'T TAKE HIM AWAY! HE'S MY BROTHER, I NEED HIM! HOW DARE YOU?"

"Cal?" Charlie's attempt isn't any more successful than my own.

"YOU THINK YOU CAN DO THIS? YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST TAKE HIM AWAY, WITHOUT A CARE IN THE WORLD? THERE ARE PEOPLE WHO NEED HIM! THE HOSPITAL NEEDS HIM! THE PATIENTS NEED HIM! I NEED HIM! YOU HAVE TO GIVE HIM BACK!""

A crash sounds from inside a moment later and I push on the door handle, willing it to be open. I don't have time to be worrying about Cal's security when the door swings open and we both bustle into the living room. Cal kneels on the other side of the room, nursing his bleeding hand as glass shards stick from his appendage.

"Cal!" The two of us rush over and stoop, one on either side of the sobbing doctor.

"Please!" He begs," Please, don't take him! Please, please don't, I love him, my brother, my baby brother…"

His voice gets slower and quieter, less urgent. Whimpering slightly, he slumps against us – into an obviously much needed slumber.

* * *

{ Cal }

"Ethan." I can't quite grasp the meaning of the word as I roll slowly back into consciousness, but it seems important.

"Cal?" The voice sounds female. Whoever it is, they're stroking my head soothingly," Shh, it's alright Cal."

The words are meant to calm me, but the important name forces it's way to the front of my mind and demands to escape out of my mouth again.

"Ethan?" I simper, tears building in my eyes.

"It's Rita, sweetheart." Rita. Little blonde nurse. Feisty but kind. She's nice, but where's Ethan?

"Where is he?"

A sharp intake of breath to my right,

"You know he can't be here, Cal." Her voice is low and choked.

"I know, but I want him to be here. I don't want him to leave."

"I know, none of us do." I can hear the smile in her voice," I remember when you first got here, you were terrible to one another, but recently, you could see how much you cared for one another. He told me once, told me he would do anything for you and that he knew you were willing to do the same."

My pent up tears fall once again and she holds me, letting me cry. Only once I manage to stop do I realise that I don't know where I am.

"Where are we?"

"We're in cubicles, Cal. At Holby City Hospital."

Oh. I wasn't expecting that answer.

"Why?" Did I faint at work?

"You don't remember?"

"No, what should I remember?"

"Me and Charlie were coming to see you at your apartment after our shift, to make sure you were alright."

"Yeah?"

"You didn't answer the door and you were shouting. There was a crash and when we got in, you'd punched a picture on the wall. Glass all in your hand."

"Did I faint?"

"No, I think you just fell asleep. You looked exhausted."

"Mm. Oh! The oven! I had a pizza in the oven!" I sit up, panicking. Rita puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Don't worry. We managed to fish your pizza out; it was burned to a crisp. Definitely not edible."

"Oh." I relax back against the bed. The inside of my elbow feels uncomfortable. I look at it, searching for a reason. It turns out to be a needle, and I follow the tube up to a drip just above my head, hanging from a drip stand. My eyebrows scrunch together slightly.

"What's this for?" I question the nurse, confused.

"It's fluids. You seemed a little de-hydrated. There's some pain relief in there too." She explains.

"Oh, right." It seems obvious, now that I think about it. I bring my bandaged hand up into my line of vision and sigh.

"I just missed him, really badly." I whisper, feeling guilty.

"I can't even imagine, Cal. I'm so sorry." Rita murmurs. Which makes me feel better, kind of – at least she didn't say: 'I know exactly how you feel'.

The powder blue curtain is pulled back to reveal Charlie, who steps into the cubicle, shutting the curtain behind him again.

"Sorry it took so long, couldn't find any cello tape." He says, holding something out to me. I take it. It looks like a piece of paper, shiny stripes of tape stretching across it and stopping at the edges. Turning it over, my confusion continues – it's a photo. A photo of me and Ethan, I remember it being taken a few months ago. I also remember Ethan coming home late one morning after having a night shift, looking rather pleased with himself. Without even explaining the source of his joy, he went and hung the picture up on the wall, in a way that made you feel as if that was where the photo belonged – on display, for all to see. It made me feel like I truly was his brother and could barely contain my warmth, letting it out only by slinging an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close.

I smile as I remember it now, a little guilty at having destroyed it. A tear slips down my cheek.

"Thanks, Charlie. I mean it."

And my tear lands on the photo.

* * *

 **Was that good? I thought it was kinda shaky, but maybe it was okay. Review? Please?**

 **\- Cale xx**


	4. Bargaining

**God! This one took forever to write. Thanks again for the reviews ( CBloom2, Guest, Tato Potato, beckyboogle, 20BlueRoses and ETWentHome )**

 **Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Lost Without You: Chapter 4 - Bargaining

* * *

{ Cal }

I don't think I'll ever get used to the empty feeling the apartment has taken on since Ethan's- Ethan's- Ethan's…. _disappearance._

It hurts to look around it sometimes – there are so many memories of him here, I didn't even realise how many there were. His name alone brings up a thousand and one feelings, memories and painful truths about me. They all seem so painfully vivid.

* * *

 _Ethan stood in the kitchen, making coffee as he berates me about my safety on a night out._

* * *

 _Ethan curled up quietly in the armchair, re-reading a book about bedside manner._

* * *

 _Ethan sprawled across his bed early one morning. I had stopped to look at him and ended up being late for work._

* * *

 _Ethan rolling his eyes at me after a girl – the third one that week – closed the door behind her._

* * *

 _Ethan sighing as he goes to answer the door, obviously hoping that I was going to do it._

* * *

 _Ethan flopped on the sofa beside me, picking holes in the 'Die Hard' plot._

* * *

 _Ethan crying and actually letting me comfort him after a tough shift in the ED._

* * *

 _Ethan attempting to hide his smile as I joke about something._

* * *

The list goes on. It goes on even further if you lengthen the range to _all_ my memories of him.

* * *

 _Ethan striding into the Emergency Department, a spring in his step._

* * *

 _Ethan being picked on by Mrs. Beauchamp._

* * *

 _Ethan being bullied in the playground._

* * *

 _Ethan floundering about his feelings for Honey._

* * *

 _Ethan speaking exasperatedly after being covered in putrid smelling stomach acids._

* * *

Everything I ever did was to protect Ethan. Or at least, everything in the past 6 months. I wanted so desperately to keep him safe, yet, when he needed me most, I wasn't there. What if I had been with him? Would I have been able to save him? Why _wasn't_ I with him?

My eyes sting with unshed tears and I have to fight against the sinking feeling in my stomach. Ethan had always been a very fond person, and he loved to keep photos. Ethan's photo albums. They should be under his bed. I stop for a minute and scratch my head. Pushing myself out of my chair, I decide that I should go and find them.

I stand in front of Ethan's bedroom door, suddenly frightened. Maybe, if I don't go in, he'll come home tonight, that's a fair bargain, right?

I begin to think that going in would be like killing him. It terrifies me, the thought of going in and missing that chance of his resurrection. I know I'm being stupid, but I still hesitate. Thinking about the other night, when I fell asleep on his bed – twice – and the feeling of home that surrounded me, the feeling of security, it pushes me forwards, and I open the door once more.

Glancing around the familiar room, I feel a sense of loneliness wash over me. Nothing had ever been able to shift Ethan from the top of my priorities list, even when I didn't realise it. But now, someone might as well have just torn my list of priorities down. I had never thought about what would happen if Ethan were to die, it was something that had always scared me too much to think about, so I had never thought about it in detail. Yet now, I get a front row seat to a high definition, 3D, surround sound screening. I'm never going to see him again. Never going to have any new memories of him, and that crushes me, completely and utterly crushes my soul.

I never realised that losing someone would hurt this much. Everyone seems to think that I'm not going to be able to cope and I think they're right. I remember talking to Dixie just yesterday when she came to see how I was after hearing that I was in the hospital as a patient. I remember her seeming to think I wouldn't be able to cope either, ( "I doubt I would be able to handle losing the last person that I loved." ), at first I thought she was just saying that tot make me feel better, because surely she had lost the last person she loved? But, then again, maybe she hadn't; she was close to lots of the staff at the hospital and I'm sure she still has other relatives. I don't have any other relatives and I'm not quite _that_ close to the other members of staff, and Taylor certainly didn't love me. So, Ethan really was the last person that I loved. And Ethan is gone. The last person that I loved is gone.

I fall back onto the bed, exhausted.

"Okay," I say, to no one in particular," What if I'm nice to him for the rest of my life? I can do that. If I'm nice to him for the rest of my life, will you just give him back?"

I only half expect a reply, but I have to try.

"What if-" I prop myself up on my elbows, looking for bargaining material," What if I'm nice to _everyone_ for the rest of my life?"

Again, no answer.

"What if I never let a patient die, ever again?"

I jump up and stride into the kitchen, a crazy idea swirling inside of me. I rag a drawer open and pick up one of the sharpest knives, my hands shaking.

"What if, what if I cut one of my fingers off? Would you give him back then?" I ask, incredulous.

I raise the knife above my head and place my left index finger on the table in front of me. I stare at it, the image going blurry as water builds up in my eyes.

"Come on!" I practically scream, furious at myself. I take several swings, but none of them get close to the table or my finger, my sub-conscience pulling my arm back in a very successful attempt to save the important digit. I sigh, angrily and throw the knife onto the table with a clatter.

"WHY?!" I scream, distraught, "WHY DID YOU HAVE TO DIE? WHY DID YOU HAVE TO LEAVE ME?"

* * *

 **As always, reviews are appreciated. Also, on my profile there is a poll on which story you want to see re-written next, go and vote!**

 **\- Cale xx**


	5. Depression and Acceptance

**I am so sorry. I completely forgot about this fic. I was looking at my profile the other day and saw it, I was bricking it. Sorry.**

* * *

Lost Without You: Chapter 5 - Depression and Acceptance

* * *

{ Cal }

I don't remember the last time I ate.

I don't remember the last time I drank something.

I don't even remember the last time I had a restful sleep.

All I do remember is nearly chopping my own finger off in a crazy un-answered deal to try and get Ethan back. I don't even know who I was supposed to be making the deal with. God? The Devil? Who cares? It wouldn't have worked anyway.

That was a week ago now. It feels like an eternity. Especially because I spent all week making all sorts of ridiculous promises in exchange for my younger sibling. I even went as far as promising to give a Tasmanian Devil to someone on the other side of the world for Christmas. Just goes to show how desperate I am, doesn't it?

I know, now, that they were all ridiculous and nothing will ever bring Ethan back. No matter how much I wish for him to come home.

People come and go, bringing their condolences and grief wrought tears. None of it matters though. Ethan is dead; Ethan was dead yesterday; Ethan is dead today; and he'll be dead tomorrow. So how do their comforting words matter? How does anything matter?

I shiver, remembering the sight of his cold, limp form in the morgue.

* * *

 _A sob escapes me as Connie lifts the white sheet delicately, before letting it rest on his waist line. An angry, gaping knife wound glares back at me from his lower abdomen and I have to cover my mouth to stop myself from screaming in horror._

" _I'll leave you for a minute." Connie's kind notion almost goes straight over my head as I struggle to regain my focus. I manage to nod,_

" _Thanks."_

 _The door closes behind her and I have to fight the bile rising in my throat. Looking away from his usually happy facial features, I notice that his hand is laid right in front of me. My fingers linger over his hand and I'm not sure if I want to touch him. He must be cold by now. I don't want him to be cold. I try to thin about who would have last held his hand. I can't think of anyone specific and pick up his hand delicately; I'm his big brother and I want to say goodbye. I hold the hand against my cheek, his cold body temperature sending a shiver through me._

" _Oh, Eth." I pause to push my fingers through his thick blonde hair. "What do I do? How do I survive without you?"_

 _He doesn't answer, of course he doesn't._

" _I thought I could protect you forever. Look how that turned out."_

 _I give him a watery smile and set his hand back down, but I don't let go, not yet._

" _Goodbye, baby brother."_

 _And I let go._

* * *

I knew it was my last goodbye as I walked towards the morgue doors. I wish I could see him one last time. I wish I could tell him everything and nothing. I wish I could hold him, one more time. His imagine is still imprinted in my memory. I can still imagine what he was like. But that's all it will ever be: an imagination.

Ethan may be dead, but I'll see him again one day. And when I do, I'll hug him. Hug him and tell him the truth. The truth about loving him, like any brother should.

"Goodbye baby brother."

* * *

 **Alright, slightly shorter. Sorry ( again ). I will be writing a companion story to this, to do with the girl who got stabbed and how it happened, blah, blah, blah. ( Don't worry, Cal's not going to fall in love with her ).**

 **\- Cale xx**


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